Futon Fusion
by waterlilylf
Summary: A fluffy little pillow story about the importance of selecting the right bed, and the proper person to share it with. Yaoi.


-1

Disclaimer - since I didn't get Gundam Wing for Christmas (sob) I still don't own them, and I don't have a futon either…

Note - this for my long-suffering, over-worked proof-reader, Kaeru Shisho. Thank you for everything, and especially for making writing such sheer fun!

Duo's POV

**Futon Fusion:**

I love watching couples who come in to the shop; figuring out the dynamics of the relationship, who's in charge, who's holding the purse strings.

Hey, there's not a huge amount of interest otherwise in a furniture store; a guy's got to get his kicks somewhere.

Of course, it's adorable when it's a couple of eighty-year olds looking to replace the bed they've had since they got married, but it's even better when they're young and cute. Especially if they're both guys.

It happens more often than you might think; Futon Fusion (despite the name, we also sell beds, and all other sorts of bedroom furnishings) is a pretty expensive store, and gay couples tend to have more disposable income than straight. Plus Sanque allows same sex marriages, and even tax benefits for gay couples who just live together, and there are some amazing gay clubs and bars, so it's become something of gay holiday destination.

So, yeah, it was usually a poor day when I didn't at least have some eye candy to sweeten my life.

Eureka!

I straightened up from arranging our new range of cashmere pillows as the doors swung open to admit two of the cutest guys I'd ever seen.

They were both quite droolably gorgeous, and obviously crazy about each other, only dropping each other's hands as they entered and even then the shorter blonde reached up to give his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. Blondie headed straight for one of my favourite beds; a wrought-iron four-poster with the metal sculpted into trailing leaves and twigs. I'd been studying the bed over the past couple of weeks since we'd had it delivered, and I was still finding new surprises; insects, a tiny bird's nest, a little spray of acorns.

It was also one of our most expensive beds. Blondie didn't look like money would be an issue though; I was pretty sure that his baby-blue sweater was cashmere, or some even more expensive alternative, and his jeans looked like the ones I'd seen a male model wearing on the front cover of that month's _Vogue_.

The tall guy was totally different, but he was still hotter than a honeymoon in hell. The worn denims just accentuated his long legs, and the dark green polo shirt brought out the colour of his eyes.

Very nice.

Blondie was bouncing around, looking at everything, after giving me a quick nod, but his boyfriend zoomed straight in on my other favourite bed, stroking the leather headboard with one fingertip.

'That one is genuine, hand-stitched Moroccan leather,' I commented, drifting over. I usually leave customers alone until they look like they need help but it had been a slow day and I was itching for someone to talk to.

Actually, most days at Futon Fusion tended to be slow; it was the sort of place that could tick by on a couple of sales a day. It didn't make for the most exciting working environment though. Most of the time I liked it, because I could read or have fun rearranging things, but sometimes it got boring.

'It would want to be, for that amount of money,' he remarked, flipping the price tag over and grimacing.

I grinned at him. 'I know. If you like, we have some special-offer beds at the back of the shop. They're last year's lines, so there's a pretty good discount.'

'Thank you. We'll try there.'

'Trowa, what do you think of this one?' Blondie interrupted. 'It's beautiful.' He was back at 'my' bed again, exclaiming in delight as he started to pick out all the little details. 'I can just see it in our room, we could drape it with some really light fabrics and one of those big throws and lots of silk pillows.'

'We're only looking today, Quatre, remember?' Trowa shut him off in mid flow.

'Oh, I know, but if we see the perfect bed it would be a shame not to buy it, really.' He turned that winsome smile on to me. 'It's bound to be a unique piece; they probably only have one in stock.'

'It is a one-off piece actually,' I agreed. 'The iron-worker lives outside the city and each of his designs is totally exclusive.' I felt a bit mean on Trowa's behalf, but on the other hand, if Blondie - Quatre - did decide to buy it, I'd get a hefty commission out of it. And I could do with the money.

'I knew it,' the blond guy beamed triumphantly at me and I got the feeling he was used to getting his own way. 'Would it be all right if we tried it out? Just to check we like it?'

'Of course,' I nodded politely, bending down to hand him a couple of pillows.

Blondie's blue eyes narrowed. 'Don't I know you from somewhere? You're not a student at the SRU by any chance, are you?'

Well, I couldn't really blame him for being surprised. Most of the students at the elite Sanque Royal University certainly didn't have part-time jobs in furniture stores. Even though I had a fairly generous grant, it didn't cover living expenses in such an expensive city.

I nodded. 'I'm doing a Master's Degree at night; I do go to the library on my days off, though, so you may have seen me there.'

'What are you studying?' He bounced happily on the bed, before flopping down.

'History of Art. How does the bed feel?'

'Oh, I love it. I'm majoring in Business and Trowa's studying music. Trowa!' He raised his voice, and his boyfriend, well-trained puppy that he was, obediently came back over to us. 'What do you think, Tro?' he asked, pouting up adorably.

I would have melted if he'd smiled at me like that, but Trowa was apparently made of sterner stuff.

'You know I can't afford anything like that, Quatre. There are some cheaper beds down the back. Can't we look at those?'

'But this one's perfect. Why can't I give you a present, for once?' He pulled Trowa's head down and whispered something in his ear that made his boyfriend go bright scarlet.

Probably my pervey imagination, but I couldn't help conjuring up all sorts of kinky scenarios involving handcuffs and silk scarves…and Quatre spread-eagled on the bed with all the little hand-crafted birds and butterflies getting an eyeful.

OK, probably a good time just to leave them to it, so I retreated a little bit, just far enough that they felt they had some privacy, but not quite far that I wouldn't have some idea what was happening.

'But you never let me buy you anything,' Quatre was saying shrilly. 'Why won't you let me give this one thing? It's for both of us anyway.'

'You know why,' Trowa's voice dropped then, infuriatingly, but I could see Quatre flush angrily.

'Fine then,' he snapped. 'I was only trying to help, but if that's really how you feel about me, forget it. I wouldn't want to impose on your precious independence.'

We both jumped back as Quatre stormed out of the shop; well, wasn't he just Mr. Temperamental? OK, no fat commission from him today, obviously.

'You're not going to let him run off like that, are you?'

'What the hell do you know about it?' he demanded.

I shrugged. 'I know about being poor and I know about being alone. Looks like you've got a really cute guy who's crazy about you; if I had that, I sure as hell wouldn't let him run off on me just 'cause we'd had some stupid argument.'

'It's not some 'stupid argument',' he snapped. 'Like I said, you know nothing about us. Or are you dating a billionaire on the side when you're not working in here?'

'Nope,' I said equably. 'I've never been that lucky. But if I do ever meet some guy who looks at me the way Quatre looks at you, I hope I won't be dumb enough to make an issue of the fact that he's loaded and I'm not. Or maybe you don't really care about him?'

'Of course I do!' he yelled at me, and then looked surprised, like he wasn't used to that sort of emotion bursting out. He threw me a rueful grin. 'Like you said, I'd better go after him.'

I was still grinning as I went to sort out a pile of bed-linens that Quatre had knocked over on his way out. They'd been so cute, those two. Maybe it had been their first big row, and I hoped they'd have fun making up.

The next customer - my fifth of the day - was a girl, bucking the happy universal trend that had been sending me all those attractive guys. I suppose she was pretty enough, if you went in for that particular gender, but she was obviously the sort who treated lowly shop assistants like they were dust beneath her feet.

Still, she knew her own mind, zeroing straight on the most expensive bed we had, which also happened to be the most hideous. The headboard was made from one massive piece of Sanque Red Oak and carved into some awful Gothic design that might have worked in a cathedral but looked ridiculous on a bed.

'Yes, I'll definitely take this one,' she decided. 'My boyfriend will be in later to arrange for payment, if you can reserve it for Miss Peacecraft. His name is Mr. Heero Yuy and he should be in soon.'

'That's fine, Miss,' I beamed at her. Excellent day; one unsightly piece of furniture sold, one large chunk of commission to go onto my wages as a bonus.

And it just got better. Just a few minutes after Miss Peacecraft had swept out, coincidentally also knocking over my artistically-arranged pillows, Trowa and Quatre blew back in like a breath of fresh air, all snuggly and clearly unable to keep their hands off each other. Not that they were trying very hard.

'Hey! You guys made it up!'

'We came to a compromise,' Quatre beamed radiantly up at his boyfriend. 'Trowa gets the bed he wants, and I get to pay for it.'

'That's great,' I led them over to the cash register, privately thinking that Trowa seemed to be getting the better part of the deal - the bed he'd wanted _and_ an adoring boyfriend to share it with - but maybe they'd work out some exchange of favours later.

After I'd taken their details, and swiped Quatre's credit card, I called our delivery van driver to see how soon the bed could be delivered.

'Sorry, guys. Tonight's out of the question; we could do first thing in the morning if you'll be home.'

'Oh, we will,' Quatre assured me excitedly. Probably couldn't wait to get the thing home and christen it. Well, I'd be the same in his place.

As they were leaving, Trowa handed me a small flier for a bar near the university. 'If you're not doing anything on Friday night, you might like to drop by. They have good traditional music sessions. We'll both be playing if that doesn't put you off.'

'I'd really like that. Thanks.'

This was turning into a great day. I'd made two sales; I'd maybe made a couple of friends. It wasn't all that easy, transferring universities half-way through the semester but after Solo had dumped me, I'd just had to move away. It had been bad enough to be dumped for a girl but it would have been intolerable to hang around and watch them get married.

I shook my head and started on the pillow stack for the fourth time that day; I was starting to think that maybe I'd have to move it away from the doors.

It was the best location though, anyone who came inside saw them straightaway. And they were just so soft and strokeable that I was sure they'd fly out if people just noticed them.

I was lying on the floor, just to test one out, when the most gorgeous guy imaginable walked in.

Wow, maybe there was some sort of hot guy convention in town that I hadn't heard about. The couple earlier, whom I sincerely hoped had made up their quarrel, a gorgeous young Chinese guy this morning, although admittedly he'd been with his girlfriend, and now this perfect specimen.

He was, unfortunately, looking at me like I was missing more than a few brain cells. Of course, that might have been because I was prone at his feet and snuggling a pillow.

Not the best first impression. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. He was the best-looking guy I'd ever seen, even if he didn't seem to have a lot in the charm department. But then, he probably thought I had some weird kind of pillow fetish

'I want this model futon,' he announced abruptly, handing me a computer print-out.

'No problem.'

Except there was; our store computer showed there were none of that particular model left in stock.

Ooops.

He wasn't happy. According to him, we had no business advertising stock on our website when it wasn't in store.

'I'm sorry,' I apologised again. 'We sold the last of that model this morning and it hasn't been taken off our stock list yet. But it should only take a couple of days to order you one specially or perhaps there is something else you might be interested in. We do stock a variety of beds as well as futons.'

'Then why is the shop called Futon Fusion?'

I grinned. 'Everyone asks that. Originally, they just sold futons, but there isn't really enough of a market so the owner expanded into other furniture as well.'

'Then you should change the name to reflect your range of products,' he informed me.

'The current name is misleading.'

'Oh, I know, but I'm not the one in charge. I thought we should change the name to Bedded Bliss but my boss thought it sounded like a brothel.'

He actually smiled. Oh, man. It totally lit up his deep, deep blue eyes, and did amazing things to his cheekbones, and emphasised the curve of his lips.

'It does, I suppose. Anyway, I'd like to place an order. My name is Heero Yuy, that's spelt H-E-E..'

'You're Heero Yuy? I've been waiting for you.' Yeah, for my whole life.

He actually took a step back; OK, maybe that had come out as a little over enthusiastic.

'Your girlfriend was in here earlier; she actually has a different bed picked out so maybe you'd like to give her a call?'

Oh yeah, that was right. He had a girlfriend. Damn again. Great; just what I needed, to fall for another straight guy.

'I don't have a girlfriend.'

Hope!

'Uh, she said her name was Miss Peacecraft. She seemed pretty definite that you two were a couple.'

He snorted. 'She _thinks _we are.'

'Whoa,' I breathed. 'You mean she's some kind of delusional psychotic stalker or something?'

This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened in the shop, even better than the couple who'd tried to have sex on a leather fold-out couch. Admittedly, it had been cut to half-price, but still, these breeders think they can get away with anything.

'Not exactly. We grew up together; my step-father lives next door to her parents, and she's developed this…infatuation with me.' Well, couldn't fault her there. 'I thought the best thing was just to ignore it, but apparently she's convinced herself that we're soul mates.'

'Can't you just, I dunno, tell her you're not interested?'

'I have! I keep telling her, and it just makes her more interested! I think it's partly boredom; she was supposed to start University this year and her mother got sick so she deferred her place for a year to stay at home. All her friends have moved on, but she's stuck at home, and she spends all her time trying to follow me around. I've no idea how she knew I was even coming here today.'

'I've even tried telling her I was gay and it didn't work. She says it's just a silly phase.'

Ooooo-kay.

Rewind that last bit.

'You mean, you're actually gay, or you pretended you were gay to get rid of her?'

'Why on Earth would I pretend to be gay?'

'Um, well, some people do,' I muttered. 'So you are really gay, then?' I asked, just to get things straight, well, in a gay sort of way.

He nodded. 'It is legal in Sanque,' he informed, a little defensively.

Oh, great. Now he thought I was some sort of homophobe.

'Oh, I know. I'm gay too, actually.' I swallowed. 'Maybe, what you need to do is prove you're actually gay. You know, let her see you with your boyfriend.'

'Maybe. Except I'm single right now.'

Yes!

'Shit!'

'What?'

'Relena,' I hissed, ducking down behind the cash register, and dragging him down with me. 'Coming in the door. She's hunted you down! Maybe we should call the police or something? I mean, she's stalking you!'

He gave me another smile. 'I think you've been watching too many thrillers on TV.'

'Probably. What I really need is a nice boyfriend to take me out sometimes.'

'I think you're right.'

I was still working that one out; did he mean, yes, I needed a boyfriend, or yes, he would be that boyfriend, when he stood up.

'Relena. I think we need to talk.'

'I know we do, darling.' She simpered up at him, and he took her arm and led her off to the farthest corner of the store.

Huh. We had security cameras all over the shop and a monitor by the register, so I could watch them, even if I couldn't hear what they were saying. Relena didn't much seem to like it, though and after a few minutes, she flounced away from him.

'I don't believe it. We're perfect together. We've always been such good friends and our parents would be so happy if we married. I know what's wrong with you; it's your friend Quatre Winner and his - boyfriend, isn't it? They've corrupted you!'

'No one's corrupted me,' Heero sounded like he was trying not to laugh. 'I'm gay, I have a boyfriend, and I'm sorry, but we can never be more than friends.'

'You don't have a boyfriend!'

Oh, God, I could really believe that those two had known each other since they were kids. They'd be saying 'I do', 'no, you don't' in a minute.

'I do!' Heero snapped and then grabbed me. The kiss wasn't just a demure peck; nope, it was the full works. Tongue scoping out my insides, teeth nibbling at my lips and one hand securely between my shoulder blades, holding me in place. Not that I was planning to go anywhere.

'Wow.' I had to lean back against the counter, as my legs had apparently melted. Along with pretty much the rest of me. With a couple of notable exceptions. 'That was amazing.'

Heero slid an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. 'I know I probably should have asked you first. I'm not normally that presumptuous. I'm sorry.'

'You don't have to be. And it worked, right? She's gone.'

He grunted. 'Even if she hadn't come in, I would have wanted to kiss you. I wanted to do it from the minute I walked in here, and saw you lying on the floor. Can I take you to dinner somewhere, when you finish work?'

I looked at my watch. 'I'd love that. I'll be closing up in about thirty minutes. Although I've made two sales today, which is pretty much a record, so Howard probably won't mind if I leave a bit early.'

'Three sales,' he corrected. 'I still want to order a futon. And maybe a couple of those pillows.' He handed over his credit card and gifted me with another one of those killer smiles. 'You know, I still don't know your name. I can't just call you 'pillow man.'

'You can if you like. Or you could just call me your boyfriend again. That would make me really happy.'

'I like the idea of making you happy.' He gave me another kiss, just on the lips this time but warm and affectionate and with just a quick dart of his tongue at the end. 'But I think I should know my boyfriend's name.'

'Duo Maxwell.' I placed the day's takings - three credit card stubs - in the little safe beside the register, and keyed in the alarm setting. 'Right. I'm ready if you are.' We snagged a couple of pillows on the way out and he even selected my favourite colours. Damn, he was perfect. And he'd be even more perfect sprawled all over them.

He surprised the hell out me by taking my hand as soon as we got outside; not that I was complaining or anything - God no! - but I wasn't all that used to being public displays. It was cool. He wasn't worried about being seen with me, or letting people see that we were together. And it felt good, one hand in his, and the other swinging a Futon Fusion bag.

'Hey, you know what you get if you put some sugar under one of these pillows?'

'No, what?'

'Sweet dreams!'

'That's terrible,' he groaned, but he still gave my hand a quick squeeze. 'I plan to make sure you have sweet dreams tonight anyway.'


End file.
